Fight to Forget
by HeroismInACan
Summary: "The old man set up his hands and prepared himself, "Come on, you lousy beast. Come and get some. Let me show you how us Pines deal with monsters like you messing with our family.'" An apocalyptic Gravity Falls AU. Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:**

Okay, so I haven't written a story in a long time, and on top of that I haven't updated this place with a new story in an even longer time. I apologize for that. I've been drawing a lot more and have been updating my DeviantArt rather than writing and updating FanFiction.

Anyway, this little snippet here is an idea that I got awhile back regarding an apocalyptic _Gravity Falls_ AU. I do plan on continuing writing this, but I cannot guarantee that updates will be at all regular. I will try my best, of course, but I make no promises. I will update whenever I feel like it, which could very well be tomorrow morning or a month from now, so keep that in mind. I also don't know if this will be a linear story or just a collection of tales and short stories from my little AU. I would like a linear story, but we'll see how it goes. I am also open to your opinions on whether you would like this to be an actual story or just a clump of tales from the AU.

Also feel free to drop a review and let me know your thoughts on this! I'm also open to hearing what, or who, you would like to see in the future.

Cover image I created. You can find it on my DeviantART page. There's a link on my profile.

 **Disclaimer:**

I do not own Gravity Falls or any of the characters depicted.

 **Warnings:**

Blood, gore, body horror(?), monsters, the apocalypse, etc.

* * *

. . . Enjoy the opening of the story! . . .

* * *

She screamed as loud as she could to the point that her lungs were beginning to burn.

The creature tightened its bloody grip on the girl's arm and used its free hand to clamp down on her neck. With a shrill cry, it dug its claws into her soft flesh, which easily caved under the sheer force.

The creature's breath smelled of rot as if the thing hadn't brushed its teeth in years, which was feasible considering the state of the world. Its flesh had long since began to peel and flake off. That alone was an unsettling sight for any who was unfortunate enough to come across such a monster.

The survivors called this type of creature a "Breather." They acquired the name due to how terrible their breath smelled, which was bad enough to stop any in their tracks. If they had any sort of nose left they were sure to stop even themselves with their own odor.

The more the girl struggled the tighter the creature's grip became. Its dirt-caked nails pierced and tore at the delicate flesh of her neck, tearing it into thin ribbons that were quickly stained red.

Her screams were slowly quieting, becoming less enthusiastic from panic and more tired from the blood loss.

The creature let out another cry, this one higher pitched than the last, as it felt its prey begin to slacken. However, its scream was cut short when a blow to the back of its mangled head made it see stars.

It stumbled and released the girl just in time to be whacked again. When it turned its dull gaze onto the source of the beating it gave a loud shriek and lunged toward the human standing there with a baseball bat in his old hands.

The old man gave a roar of his own as he met the creature halfway with his wooden baseball bat. A sickening crack followed afterwards, and the weapon splintered and fell apart.

"Piece of crap," the old man grumbled, dropping what was left of the weapon onto the ground and taking a step backwards. He reached into an inner coat pocket and removed a set of aged brass knuckles, readying them as he glowered at the nasty beast before him.

When the monster lurched toward him he uppercut it in the jaw and sent it reeling. During the moment of relapse, he allowed himself a quick glance at the girl, who was now lying in a heap on the ground. Another cry from the beast brought his attention back to the monster, which was now oozing congealed blood.

The old man set up his hands and prepared himself, "Come on, you lousy beast. Come and get some. Let me show you how us Pines deal with monsters like you messing with our family."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

A quick update because I got motivated to write. I honestly wrote the skeleton for this during work, which helped me get through it. I apologize for how short this is though. I like longer chapters and stories, but when the ending of the chapter feels right then I just gotta do it, you know?

Anyway, enjoy the second chapter!

* * *

 _The soft flutter of a book page turning was the only sound in the room, followed by the quiet scribble of a pencil. Occasionally a cough would accompany the page, but mostly silence overtook the comfortable space._

 _The bedroom was as it always was—messy. The bed on the left, cluttered with books, clothing, and strange knickknacks, and the bed on the right, brightly colored with stuffed animals and clothing strewn about, were equally inhabited._

 _Currently the bed on the left side of the room had a body perched upon the unmade bed. A book lie open in the boy's lap as he occasionally flipped pages and wrote notes. He didn't bother to move when footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and the door was suddenly thrown open._

" _Dipper," the girl bellowed, "You're still reading that nerd book?" She walked further into the room, leaving the bedroom door wide open._

 _The boy lifted his head briefly to address the new body in the room, "Yeah?"_

 _She sighed heavily and collapsed beside him, creating a comfortable dip in the mattress. "Can't we go to the lake or something? You know, do something actually summer-y for once?"_

" _Mabel, we've done plenty of summer-y things. Like going swimming at the pool or fishing with Grunkle Stan." He rested his hands on top of the book and met his sister's gaze._

" _Okay, yeah, but—"_

" _You just need to wake up, Mabel."_

 _She blinked owlishly, eventually twisting her eyebrows into a look of confusion. "Wake up? I think you meant to say grow up, Dip Dop." She laughed loudly._

" _No, I meant what I said. You need to wake up, Mabel, and now. If you sleep in for too much longer then you'll never wake up." Dipper slammed his book shut and shoved it off his lap. It thumped loudly on the wooden floor._

" _Dipper, your book, you—"_

 _Suddenly he was standing, his back to Mabel and his hands clenched tightly. It sounded as if he were muttering "wake up" over and over, but she couldn't be too sure._

 _Mabel reached out a hand to touch his arm, to comfort him, but he wasn't there anymore._

" _Dipper?"_

.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . .

.

"Mabel!"

"My god, you're awake!"

"You had me so worried, Sweetie."

Mabel blinked in rapid succession in an attempt to get her eyes used to functioning again.

Three faces greeted her: Grunkle Stan, who appeared to have been crying recently and was currently fighting back more tears, Dipper, who didn't bother holding back the tears, and Grunkle Ford, who looked like a fish out of water.

Mabel swallowed and realized that it hurt to do so, but somehow she managed to rasp out, "Good morning." A faint smile followed her words, which was met with a smile from each of her family members.

"Good morning, Pumpkin," Stan chuckled, using one hand to wipe a tear from his eye before it could fall. "Glad to see that you're awake."

Dipper reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, "How much do you remember?"

She remained silent for a long moment. Dipper almost repeated his question because he wasn't sure if she heard him or not, but before he could say anything she mumbled, "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

She nodded slowly. She could remember absolutely nothing, which was a damn shame. She was in pain and could feel the bandages strangling her, but she had no recollection or even a remote idea as to why she was lying in this bed wrapped up like a mummy.

"Well, uhm," Dipper used his free hand to tug at his shirt collar, chewing on his bottom lip briefly. "You were attacked."

Her eyebrows rose, but she spoke not a word and allowed him to continue uninterrupted.

He told of how she was attacked by a Breather, how Stan showed up just in time to stop the beast, and how he carried her back to the shack. Mabel was surprised that she had survived, honestly, but she was thankful all the same.

That would explain why she hurt everywhere, especially her neck.

"Are you in any pain?" Ford butt in, worry creasing his features.

She turned her eyes onto her great uncle, "Yes and no."

"Would you like some pain meds? We've got enough to spare."

She thought about it for only a moment before nodding.

"Right. Stan?" And with that Ford was out of sight and talking with his brother. Both men eventually left the room, which left Dipper and Mabel alone.

"Are you okay, Mabel?" Dipper asked quietly from her side. His eyes had never once left her's, and she knew that her brother had been scared for her.

She squeezed his hand as tight as she could and smiled as wide as she could manage, "I'm okay now."

They chatted until Ford returned with the medicine and insisted that she rest so the pain killers could kick in faster. Dinner was supposedly going to be ready in a few hours, so Dipper would be back then to wake her.

When she was finally left alone she cried herself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:**

I'm honestly surprised that I've been updating decently these last few days! I just got super motivated, I suppose. Anyway, this time I explain a bit more about the situation of the world. I'm also going to aim for longer chapters because I personally prefer longer stories versus shorter ones.

Enjoy!

* * *

Her fingertips ghosted over the flesh of her neck. The skin there was rough and bumpy and hadn't healed right, which led to the massive scarring she was currently staring at in the mirror.

Looking at it made her stomach rock uneasily.

Looking at it brought back the memory of what had happened.

Looking at it reminded her that she had lied to her brother just so he wouldn't worry as much.

It was stupid to lie about not remembering, but she had to do it. It made her feel just a bit better, but at the same time it made her feel like crap. Now wasn't the time to be keeping secrets, especially when she now realized just how fragile life actually was. Granted, this wasn't her first time rubbing elbows with Death and Doom, but this was the first time almost being entirely consumed by one of them. Bill was a disaster that had happened two years ago. He caused the first apocalypse, but that situation was significantly different when compared to her current predicament.

Bill Cipher was a problem, yes. He nearly took her brother away from her, damn near tore her entire family apart, but no matter what there was always a solution to defeat him and stop him for good.

The current apocalypse was man-made and didn't have an easy solution. Scientists had tried to play god and screwed up to the point that nearly all of humanity was wiped out. She was surprised that her family had survived. Well, her great uncles and her brother, that is. They were visiting Gravity Falls when the disease broke free and rampaged across the country, and they hadn't been able to go home since. They hadn't been in contact with their parents, either, but they clung to the hope that they were alive and trying to survive.

Mabel sighed heavily and turned away from the reflective glass, pulling up the collar of her turtleneck sweater to cover the monstrous blemish. She plopped heavily onto her bed and sat there quietly for a long time. It wasn't until the door suddenly opened that she jolted out of her trance and perked up.

"What's up, Pumpkin?"

"Oh, Grunkle Stan. You startled me," Mabel laughed when her eyes fell on her great uncle in the doorway. It sounded too loud, like it was forced.

If Stan had noticed the change in her voice he didn't say anything, for which Mabel was grateful. "I wanted to check on you. How're you holdin' up?"

"I'm holding up okay. Where's Dipper?"

The mattress dipped heavily when Stan sat beside her. He rubbed his chin, "I think downstairs with my brother doing nerd stuff. Ford is determined to find a way to clean this mess up, but I have doubts."

"Well, we defeated Bill, didn't we? I'm sure Grunkle Ford could come up with some sort of cure for this too, couldn't he?" Mabel couldn't help but try to be optimistic. Optimism and hope were the only things left in the world, really.

"I sure envy your outlook, you know that, Kiddo?" Stan laughed and patted her on the shoulder. "You hungry?" When she nodded her head he stood up. "All right then. I'll go whip something up. Could you get those nerds from the basement for me? I'm sure they'd like something to eat, too."

"Sure thing, Grunkle Stan," Mabel stood and bounced out of the room before her great uncle could even get a step toward the door. She flew down the stairs and into what used to be the main museum room where all the displays once stood proudly. Now the room was barricaded and half of the fake artifacts and creatures were either missing or helping block off the doors and windows. All throughout the house slabs of wood were nailed over the windows and most doors. Any windows with broken glass were sealed off completely, and any doors that were missing, well, the door part were sealed off too. Even their bedroom upstairs, which used to appear lived in and jovial, now looked like the rest of the house—devoid of color and covered with wood to seal off the dangerous outside world.

Thanks to a generator the power still worked, so Mabel was able to punch in the code on the vending machine and slip passed the barricade. She rode the elevator down until she reached the bottom and the doors opened.

As always the basement was dark and it was hard to see at first, but she heard her great uncle and brother talking and followed their voices.

" . . . no, no, that wouldn't work at all." It was Ford. The sound of a book shutting followed his voice.

Dipper joined in, "Well why not? It worked with Bill."

"Yes, but Bill was a demon, not a disease."

Dipper laughed, "He was a disease in some ways, Grunkle Ford. But I get it. What else could we do then?"

Ford didn't respond for a long moment, and he hummed briefly before finally saying, "We could hunt them. Purge them from the forest and town, rescue anyone else who may have survived the infection."

"And risk getting attacked? We already almost lost Mabel, and all she was doing was going for a walk." Mabel could hear the frown in Dipper's voice.

"Going for a walk was her first mistake. She knew the dangers. Besides, we haven't left the shack in weeks. We need to do a supply run if anything, really."

She heard her brother scoff loudly, "That's what you have to say to that? We almost lost her, Grunkle Ford. She almost died." Dipper's voice grew louder with that last statement.

It was quiet then. Her ears strained against the silence, and she inched closer to the doorway to try and steal a glace.

Ford sighed, and when Mabel peered around the corner she saw him pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I know, Dipper. I'm sorry. I—" He stopped briefly to look at Dipper, "I don't know how else to handle that situation. You may think I'm being cold and distant but I was scared too. I finally have a family again. To lose that for a second time, just—" Ford didn't finish his sentence and Dipper deflated, looking at the floor.

They both seemed to understand what the other was getting at, and putting it to words was just too difficult.

"Sorry, Grunkle Ford." Dipper mumbled.

"No, no, I'm the sorry one, Dipper."

"Clearing the town of those monsters honestly wouldn't be a bad idea, I guess. I just want to be prepared, super safe, you know? And supplies wouldn't hurt."

"Of course. We can—"

"Hey," Mabel chose that moment to bounce around the corner and yell enthusiastically.

She saw both of them jolt out of their skin and couldn't help but smile.

"Grunkle Stan is making food and wanted me to come fetch you two nerds. No skipping meals." She put one hand on her hip and wagged a finger at the both of them. She would keep to herself that she had eavesdropped on their conversation. They didn't need to know that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:**

I present to you a _long_ chapter! I'm going to aim for long chapters in the future unless for some reason a short one sneaks in here.

Anyway, for those of you who are on the computer and not the mobile site, you will probably notice that this story now has a cover image. I've been working on getting something drawn so it wasn't blank. I can't stand it when it's blank haha You can visit the image on my DeviantART page, link on my profile, if you want to see the full thing and not a tiny thumbnail.

Also, I was thinking for the next chapter that I would do Dipper's perspective of supply hunting. Yay or nay?

And, as usual, please leave some reviews to let me know what you think of the story!  
Is there anything you would like to see? Any _one_ you would like to see perhaps? What about speculations or theories you might have? Those are fun to read haha

Enjoy!

* * *

"Are you sure? After what happened last time—"

"Yes, Dipper, I'm sure." Mabel lifted her grappling hook off her side of the nightstand and looked to her brother with a smile, "Honestly? I think bashing some skulls will be therapeutic for me."

"If you say so. How have you been holding up, by the way?" Dipper adjusted his shirt and straightened out his coat. When he received no immediate answer, he raised his eyes to look at Mabel, whose eyes had narrowed. "What?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that."

"We're worried about you. We just want to make sure that you're okay," Dipper frowned, letting his arms fall to his sides.

"I know, but I'm tired of it. I'm okay. I'm fine. Stop asking. If everything wasn't all dandy then I would say something." She slid her grappling hook into its makeshift holster on her hip and made her way for the door.

"Mabel."

The tone in her brother's voice was what caused her to halt. She turned to face him, hands crossed over her chest. "What?"

"You're not okay."

"Yes I—"

Dipper held up a finger, "No. I've noticed it for awhile now, I just didn't want to push you. Well, I'm pushing now regardless. What's eating you up?"

Mabel remained rigid for only a moment before her shoulders sagged and her demeanor crumbled. "I don't want to talk about it," She mumbled.

"I don't care if you want to talk about it or not. You can't keep it in any longer. You're going to explode, and I'd rather handle that here in the safety of the shack rather than out in those creep infested woods."

Mabel stared long and hard at her brother before finally giving up and striding passed him to sit on her bed. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged her legs. She was silent for a long time and refused to say anything even when her brother sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She didn't fight him and instead leaned into his embrace.

After minutes of nothingness ticked by she finally mumbled, "I'm tired of this."

Dipper patiently waited for her to continue and simply rubbed reassuring circles on her shoulder.

Mabel let out a whoosh of air, "The fighting, the fear, the worry, the everything. Everyone keeps worrying about me, too, which is driving me bonkers, Dipper. Yes, I was hurt, I was traumatized in many ways, but it's over. It's done. It's in the past. I'm okay now. I promise." She used one of her hands to wipe at her eyes, and she refused to look at Dipper who she knew was staring intently at her.

"We're all tired, Mabel. It's hard on us all. What would I have done had you died out there that day? You think I could have easily continued onward? This cruel world would have taken my sister from me, and the only family I have is you, Grunkle Stan, and Grunkle Ford." Dipper made her put her legs down and pulled her into a genuine hug. He rested his head on hers.

"Hey, we still have Mom and Dad," Mabel butt in, wrapping her arms tightly around her brother.

"Let's face it, Mabel, Mom and Dad are probably long gone by now. It's been how long and we've still had no contact? Piedmont isn't that far from Gravity Falls. They would have been here by now if they were still alive."

Mabel remained quiet, letting her brother's words sink in. She always knew that they were probably gone already, but she liked to cling to hope.

Softly, Mabel said, "You're right. You're right about it all. I'm sorry, Dipper. I've been in a funk. A selfish funk, and now isn't the time to be selfish."

"Oh, shush, you weren't being selfish. You were being human. Just don't get upset when we all worry about you. We all worry about everything and everyone all the time because at any moment we could lose someone," Dipper chuckled, pulling back from Mabel to look at her with a grin.

"For most of the time being sweaty and awkward, you sure have a way with words when you want to," Mabel joined his laughter. After a moment she stood, putting her hands on her hips. "You know what? I can actually prove that I'm truly okay." She grabbed the hem of her sweater and yanked it over her head, leaving her in the tank top she always wore underneath the bulkier garment. She threw the article of clothing aside, letting it thud to the floor somewhere on her side of the room.

The scar on the left side of her neck was still pink and grotesque, even after all those weeks had passed. The wound ran from the bottom of her jaw to her collarbone, and against her light skin it stood out like a rose against a backdrop of weeds.

"I've been hiding it hoping that everyone would forget about it. Out of sight out of mind, right?" She laughed again, "Well, I'm done. No more hiding, okay?"

Dipper rose to his feet, keeping his smile on his face, "No more hiding."

Mabel nodded and then moved toward their dresser. She opened up one of her drawers and pulled out a plain purple shirt. She slipped it on over her tank top and let one of the sleeves fall over her left shoulder.

She spun and faced her brother, clapping her hands together, "All right, let's go."

.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . .

.

"So what are we looking for, Grunkle Ford?" Mabel tightened her grip on the baseball bat she held, her gaze shifting around their surroundings cautiously. This was technically the first time she'd been outside since the attack. Sitting on the roof or the out on the porch didn't count. She would openly admit now that yes, she was scared, but she wouldn't let that hold her back. She couldn't remain scared in the shack and let her family go out into danger without her.

"Supplies, such as food, medicine, blankets, et cetera. Anything that can be of use, either now or in the future, we grab. Also, we need to get rid of as many of these monsters as we can, but safely of course. However many we kill now just means less we have to deal with later."

Mabel kept to herself the fact that every monster they encountered was probably someone they knew, and if not one of the townsfolk then the next option was that they were tourists. Either way they were technically killing people, and that greatly disturbed her.

The twins nodded and continued trailing behind their great uncles without saying a word. They were following the main road out from the shack and heading toward Gravity Falls. Neither of the twins had been into town since the infection started. It was too dangerous, or so Ford had told them. The fact that they were allowed to accompany them on this quest for supplies was a surprise to both teenagers, but Mabel knew deep down that their great uncles needed them just as much as they needed their great uncles.

The walk was long and tiring, but at least the sun was shrouded by the clouds so the air was cool. A soft breeze blew through the pine trees around them, tousling their hair and clothing in its wake. Mabel didn't mind. The cramped and dusty Mystery Shack paled in comparison to the fresh outdoors, but at least inside the shack there weren't monsters trying to eat her flesh.

Too much time had passed since they left the shack and finally made it into town. Mabel knew that when they left the sun had just risen, and now it hung heavy almost over their heads. She presumed it was close to noon.

"We have two choices. Either we all travel together and search one house at a time, or we split into two groups and double our odds of finding loot before it gets too dark," Ford came to a stop before one of the buildings and turned to the rest of his family.

Dipper shared a glance with Mabel, who in turn shrugged and looked toward their Grunkle Stan.

Stan raised an eyebrow at the twins. "What? I don't care what we do. I'm all for splitting up so we can find more stuff and get out of here sooner." He looked to Ford.

"Dipper? Mabel?" Ford put a hand on his hip, "What do you two think?"

Mabel shrugged, "Well, sticking together is safer, but . . ."

". . . More supplies now means that we don't have to come back out here as soon. I like the sound of that." Dipper frowned, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"Let's split up then. Hopefully one of us will find some good stuff," Mabel perked up, smiling at her family and resting her hands on her hips. "Who goes with who?"

"Stanley, why don't you and Dipper go together? You can start there," Ford pointed to a house right next to the one they were standing in front of. "Mabel, the two of us can start here."

A murmur of agreement chorused from the small group.

Ford added, "And remember, no matter what do not leave the other behind. Stay together and be careful."

"Right," Stan nodded, but before they parted ways he pulled Mabel into a hug. "Stay safe, Kiddo, and make sure you keep Sixer here out of trouble." He winked at her and let go, giving Ford a nod and a small smile before he stepped back.

"We'll meet back here in exactly two hours, supplies or not," Ford readjusted the pack he wore.

Mabel hugged Dipper briefly before the party broke into two and went their separate ways.

Mabel looked at her great uncle, a sudden thought coming to mind. "Why didn't you take Dipper?"

Taken aback, Ford raised an eyebrow and stared at her for a moment, "Why would I take Dipper?"

"You two have all sorts in common, like your nerdness. You guys, like, bounce ideas off each other, too. Besides, isn't he your favorite?" Mabel frowned.

"I don't have a favorite, Mabel," Ford chuckled, "I love you both, and enjoy your company as much as I enjoy Dipper's." He rested a hand on her shoulder, "I haven't spent much time with you lately. I wanted to take this opportunity to fix that, and pass on a little bit of my knowledge regarding survival."

Mabel saw his gaze take a turn for her collarbone, but it was brief and he was already looking ahead again as they trudged on toward the door of the first house before she could say something.

Ford approached the door slowly, investigating around the entrance before he deemed it clear and motioned for her to join him on the porch. He brushed back his coat and rested his hand on a pistol, complete with an attached silencer so as not to attract any unwanted visitors. He swiftly removed the weapon from its holster and directed Mabel behind him. He tested the door to make sure it was unlocked, and swiftly yanked it open and stood in the entrance, gun before him and safety clicked back. He remained standing like that until nothing exciting happened, and he nodded at Mabel to follow him inside.

She gripped her bat tightly and held it in front of her, ready to swing at any moment in case something decided to lunge out from the shadows. She refused to be ambushed again, so she made sure to remain extra guarded. Not that she wasn't already, but she made sure to turn her caution levels up a few notches.

"Let's make sure the house is clear first," Her Great Uncle said as he made his way to the back of the house. It was a single story one bedroom, one bath, with a small living room and kitchen. There weren't many places to check, and within minutes it was deemed safe enough to roam freely.

Mabel made her way into the kitchen, shrugging her backpack off her shoulders and onto the dusty counter. She began opening up every cabinet and drawer, digging through as quietly as she could just in case the noise might alert something outside or even next door. Some of the creatures had super hearing, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

After investigating the entire kitchen, with Ford doing the same beside her, their collective findings were two cans of beans and a pack of unopened sponges. It wasn't a lot, but every little bit counted. After looting the bedroom, bathroom, and living room, they were able to add one roll of toilet paper and a book of matches to their findings.

The next few houses were the same in terms of loot, and surprisingly the duo had been lucky enough to avoid bumping into any of those infected monsters. However, Mabel avoided voicing her thoughts for fear that she would jinx them.

On their way to the meeting spot, Mabel heard a shuffling noise nearby. She grabbed Ford's sleeve and tugged, pointing with her other hand where she had heard the noise.

He looked where she pointed but kept walking, not seeing anything yet. It wasn't until they rounded the corner of a building that he saw what had made the noise.

Three of the infected were huddled together in the middle of the street. There was a pile of trash and rubble near then, and the empty soda can that was rolling on the asphalt behind one of them must have been what made the noise.

This just went to show how these creatures were quick and that apparently even just a thought could jinx their momentary luck. They had come through this street not even an hour ago and already it was inhabited by what they were trying to avoid.

"Grunkle Ford, what are we—"

Ford put a finger to his lips and kept his eyes on the creatures. One of them had twitched from Mabel's voice, its deformed head twisting like an owl in the direction of the noise. How it could hear with no ears was a mystery.

After a painstakingly long minute, it resumed its trash digging.

Her great uncle pulled her back around the corner and out of sight of the creatures. "We have to take them out, Mabel. There's no easy way around them, and if we backtrack we'll miss our meeting time. I'll shoot, you be prepared to swing that bat as hard as you can, okay?"

Mabel could feel her heart beating crazy fast. Her hands began to shake despite her efforts to still them. Regardless, she nodded and Ford removed his pistol from its holster and rounded the corner.

"Cover your ears best you can," He took careful aim on one of the creatures.

 _Click._

 _PHT!_

Mabel fought back a scream. This was the first real time she had ever seen something die like that. She had to keep telling herself that it was either that thing die or herself, and the latter wasn't an option.

Before the dead monster hit the ground, its two remaining friends whirled in the direction of the noise and were after the duo.

"Such agile things," Ford muttered, taking quick aim.

 _PHT! Click. PHT!_

"Resilient, too," Ford growled, preparing the next shot.

By the time he was ready to fire, the creature was already upon them. It grabbed Ford by the wrist of his gun hand and twisted, but the old man used his free hand to land a nice blow on the monsters hideous face.

It howled and blew contaminated saliva all over the old man's coat, causing him to grimace.

Mabel froze, watching as her great uncle continued to slam punch after punch to its face. The monster was starting to slow down, but only when it was about to bite down on his arm and she heard him yelling her name did she move into action. She swung the baseball bat as hard as she could and managed to get a decent hit on the beast. It staggered just long enough for Ford to rip his arm out of its grasp, point, and shoot.

The creature crumbled at his feet, and he exhaled loudly and bent over, resting his hands on his knees. "That could have gone better."

Mabel slowly lowered the baseball bat, letting it hang limply in her right hand as she stared at the creature on the ground. Sickly dark liquid was oozing from the bullet wound and creating a sticky pool around what was supposed to be its head.

She couldn't stop staring at it. The sight made her sick.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump until she realized it was only her great uncle.

"Come on, Mabel, hopefully the rest of the way will be smoother."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

Mild warning for character "death."

* * *

Stan was fidgeting as he walked. Every so often he would check his hip holster and make sure his gun was secure. He would reach into his inside coat pocket and touch his brass knuckles just to make sure that they hadn't fallen out. He would periodically adjust his glasses and scan their surroundings, including glances to his side to ensure that Dipper was still right there with him.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper called out after he just witnessed his great uncle adjust his glasses for the fourteenth time since they parted ways with Mabel and Ford. He could see his great uncle's hands shaking just the slightest.

"Yeah, Kid?" He glanced down at Dipper, one eyebrow raised.

"Why are you fidgeting so much? And your hands are shaking," He glanced his great uncle up and down before meeting his gaze. "You seem nervous."

Stan seemed momentarily taken aback, but quickly composed himself and cleared his throat. His hands still twitched, as if he were fighting the urge to give himself another pat down. "I'm not. I'm just being cautious is all. And my hands are not shaking. Is that a poke at my age, Kid?"

"Your nervous, Grunkle Stan. What's wrong?" Dipper furrowed his brows, ignoring the age comment. He readjusted his grip on the crowbar he held.

He and his sister weren't allowed to use weapons like guns until they were properly trained to do so. The last thing anyone wanted was for an accident to happen. Dipper would periodically bother his great uncles about training them, but every time the response was the same: 'Not today, Dipper. We've got a lot of work to get done around the shack.'

It was as if they were avoiding the task for whatever reason. It was important that they learn, and Dipper wouldn't let it get brushed off so easily. He would have to remember to bring up what happened to Mabel when he spoke with them later regarding the issue. Maybe that would help speed the process up.

The old man sighed heavily and stopped walking, pulling Dipper from his thoughts.

They had been searching for an hour now and only managed to find some rags that weren't disgusting and five cans of various foods. Dipper saw that the town had been ransacked pretty thoroughly, and he suspected that there were other survivors. However, when he mentioned the prospect of survivors, especially that they could be someone like Wendy or Pacifica, Stan shot the idea down.

Clinging to hope only made the truth hurt that much more.

"I just have a bad feeling. Have you noticed that we haven't come across a single one of those creeps? It's been an hour. There's no way that they're all just sleeping in passed noon or just don't feel like going out today. Something is up." Stan turned his head to the house they were standing in front of; noticing that the door had been kicked in and all of the windows were broken. Shards of glass glittered on the wooden porch and on the yellow grass, looking as if everything was covered in dangerous glitter.

"And we haven't found anything. What good is a can of expired beans? One more crappy meal to barely get us by," His great uncle grumbled to himself, which made Dipper frown.

This whole situation was tough on everyone, but Dipper often forgot how hard it must be on Stan and Ford. They were honestly pulling all of the weight when it came to ensuring their survival.

Being fifteen years old and not nearly as experienced as the older men, Dipper and Mabel were more like weights tied to their legs rather than actual help. He knew that his great uncles were old, and more frequently than he liked he wondered how much longer they had. If one of them, or worse, both, passed away right now, Dipper and Mabel would be ruined.

The young boy knit his eyebrows together, leaving those thoughts behind for the time being. "Hey, why don't we go see if Greasy's Diner has anything of use? Or one of the other shops down that way. When in doubt maybe we'll find more towels or napkins or something. We could also take the sugar dispensers or whatever and use those for makeshift bombs. Well, the base of one. And alcohol, too, if we can find any of that," Dipper started to walk ahead, chewing on his lower lip as he started to head for the diner. Trying to be more helpful and suggest ideas based on the limited knowledge he had made him feel better rather than sulking and being just an extra set of eyes. However, he wasn't sure if Greasy's, or any of the shops, would be promising, but it didn't hurt to look, right? Especially when considering that all of the houses they had been searching proved to be fruitless.

Stan followed after him, scratching his chin, "Hm, I think cans work better for bombs. We'll have to eat, or dump out, the expired beans and save the can, but we can try the dispensers. I also like where you're going with the alcohol, Kid." He chuckled, following after the young boy.

The duo walked toward the point of interest, but on occasion they would stop and peek into some nearby stores. Every place was devoid of anything useful, much like the houses, which continued to put a damper on their spirits.

"Hopefully the diner will have some stuff," Dipper sighed, climbing through a broken window and back out onto the main road. Stan followed suit, and together they continued onward.

The further along they traveled, the more the scenery began to change. Up until now the buildings were mostly intact but with broken doors and windows. Plants had begun to grow, but massive damage such as crumbling walls and such weren't prominent. However, the further along they walked the more the damage worsened, such as caved in roofs and crumbling walls. It was strange that this side of town seemed to take the brunt of the damage.

The sight of blood suddenly became a prominent feature in their surroundings as well, as if a massacre had happened here and fairly recently. It was on walls, on the asphalt, covered on shards of glass, and anywhere else one could image.

"Talk about painting the town red," Stan half-heartedly chuckled to himself, casting a glance toward Dipper.

"I'm starting to second guess the diner, Grunkle Stan," Dipper grimaced. He stopped before a murky puddle of blood and saw bullet casings and glass glittering in and around it. There were footprints leading from the pile and heading straight for the door of the diner. He followed the steps with his eyes and then looked to his great uncle. "You still want to investigate?"

"Sure. We walked all the way down here, and we still have an hour until we have to get back," Stan reached for his holster and removed his pistol. There were no attachments on Stan's gun. "Just be prepared for whatever we may find in there."

Dipper tightened his grip on the crowbar and sidestepped the puddle, following his great uncle toward the diner with a nod. It was eerily quiet, and despite the somewhat fresh bloodshed, there were no signs of life. There weren't even any bodies lying around, which raised some alarms for the young boy.

"Grunkle Stan? I just thought of something."

"Yeah, Kid?"

"Where are all the bodies? There's blood everywhere but not a single body, dead or alive, to go with it all."

Stan stopped abruptly and looked around, both of his eyebrows furrowing as he contemplated what Dipper had said. "That's a valid poi—"

 _Schraaahh!_

Both Dipper and Stan jumped at the sudden screech and looked toward the source of the noise. The older man clicked back the safety on his gun, and the young boy readied his crowbar.

A creature with matted red hair was crawling over the threshold of the diner, its mangled hands reaching out and digging into the wood to pull itself forward. The door, which lay in the grass beside the steps, looked as if it had been torn right off the hinges. When the monster made it passed the doorway, Dipper noticed that it had no lower body. It was leaving a trail of almost entirely congealed blood, and its nails, or lack thereof, were oozing the same sort of liquid and leaving bloody indents where they had dug into the floorboards. Dipper held back a gag from the sight.

It screeched again, only this one was much louder than the first.

With each pull forward, the creature scraped its torso and its stained clothing, a tank top and a green flannel shirt, on the splintered wooden steps.

Stan lowered his gun, watching the creature for a moment with narrowed eyes. That was when the smell hit. It was rotten, like raw meat that been forgotten on the counter for three weeks, and the odor was enough to cause the grown man to take a step backwards from the sheer force of it. Stan pinched his nose with one hand, keeping his gaze on the decaying creature, and used his other hand, which had holstered his weapon, to wave the air in front of him in a futile attempt to fight the smell, "My god, that's awful."

Dipper pinched his own nose, trying to keep from throwing up. This was by far the worst thing that he had encountered, and he'd seen some pretty terrible things so far. "How long do you think it's been like this?"

"Too long," His great uncle stopped waving around his hand, removing his weapon yet again, but kept his nose pinched with the other. "I'm gonna end this things sorry life." He started to close the gap between them and the creature, which had tumbled down the steps of the diner and landed on its back. The hair that had been previously blocking its face was now out of the way.

Stan narrowed his eyes again, but only for a minute before they widened and his mouth fell open. His gun hand lowered again, but the hand keeping his nose protected from the smell remained.

He quickly gathered himself and turned his back to the thing, looking at Dipper, "Different plan, Kid. Let's go back early. There ain't gonna be anything in there."

"What? But, Grunkle Stan, we haven't even looked. That thing doesn't have legs, so disposing of it will be a piece of cake." Dipper started to walk toward his great uncle, but he hollered for him to stop, which he obeyed.

"Dipper, we're going. Turn around and start walking. I'm gonna end this thing and then we're gonna have to run like hell."

"What's going on, Grunkle Stan?" Dipper refused to do as he was told this time. He started to walk forward again despite his great uncle's continuous threats.

"You don't need to see this, Kid."

"See what?" Dipper glared at Stan, pushing passed him when he was close enough to stare down at the monster writhing on its back.

What he saw made him drop the crowbar in his hand. It landed with a thud beside him. The creature with the familiar face started to claw toward him after regaining its composure and finally understanding how to flip back over onto its belly. Its mouth had rotten teeth and blood smeared all over its cracked lips. Its cheeks were scraped and missing skin in some places, and its skull was visible where a chunk of hair, and apparently flesh, had been ripped out. Its eyes were a milky white. Dried vomit on its clothing, and on its face, was visible now that they stood closer.

Dipper wanted to say something, but before he even opened his mouth he was being picked up and carried away. He started to struggle in his great uncle's arms. "Let me down," He yelled, "I have to—"

"Have to what, Dipper? She's dead. One of them now," Stan put the young boy down after they were a good distance away from the creature again, but kept a strong hand firmly planted on his shoulder. "I'm going to take her out of her misery. End it. Don't watch. Just look away. Once this gun goes off we need to get out of here. Any creature within the area will be alerted."

Dipper nodded numbly, watching the asphalt under his shoes. He heard his great uncle walking away, back to where the body was attempting to crawl toward them. He covered his ears with his hands and closed his eyes, not caring if he was leaving himself vulnerable.

 _POP!_

Dipper cracked one eye open and lifted his head, watching as Stan backtracked and came running toward him.

"Move, Kid! Let's get out of here," his great uncle reached a hand out when he got close enough and roughly grabbed Dipper's hand. He dragged the boy along until finally his feet started to work and he ran alongside Stan.

He stared at the still form lying in front of Greasy's Diner as they ran. One of the creature's hands was outstretched toward them, fingers lying limp on the asphalt. Dipper had to choke back a sob and turn his head away from the sight. It was too much. Almost losing his sister still took the cake for worst thing to happen to him, but this moment right now was certainly up there.

The way back was a lot quicker and mostly a blur for Dipper, but occasionally he remembered dodging a clump or two of creatures as they roamed the streets looking for the loud noise.

"Remind me to find a silencer for my gun. This is ridiculous," Stan grumbled, moving from their hiding place and continuing onward to their meeting spot. As they got further away from the diner, the creatures were few and far between.

Dipper didn't care about anything at the moment, and he remained quiet the entire way back. He couldn't believe what they had found, _who_ they had found.

When they rounded the corner of their meeting spot, Stan noticed that they were the first ones there. He huffed and said something about how his brother was always late even though they were the ones who were technically early.

They continued onward until they were standing in front of the same house they had been earlier. Dipper took a seat on the curb and pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly as he stared at the ground blankly. He barely noticed when something shifted beside him, a sudden heavy hand clamping down on his shoulder. He looked to his side with a start only to find his great uncle staring at him.

"I know, Dipper. I know. I—" Stan paused briefly, "I don't even know what to say." He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes moving to stare out at the rest of Gravity Falls. He sighed heavily, "Fuck. She was a good kid. She didn't deserve that."

Dipper kept his eyes glued to his great uncle, "What if we had been sooner? What if we left days ago for a supply run instead of today?"

Stan looked at the boy with a frown, "It's too late for what if's. That doesn't matter now."

Dipped looked back to the ground, frowning.

Roughly fifteen minutes had passed before Stan stood up from the curb, causing Dipper to lift his gaze. His sister and other great uncle were walking toward them. He stood and joined Stan in meeting them halfway.

"Took you long enough, Sixer," Stan chuckled quietly, holstering his gun.

Ford did the same with his own weapon, "Actually, Stanley, we're roughly half an hour early, and besides, we, uh, ran into a bit of trouble on the trip back."

"I'd say. You're coat looks filthier than I last saw you."

"Courtesy of those foul beasts," Ford pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

Stan grunted, "At least you made it out of whatever mess you were in intact. We ran into some trouble too."

"What kind of trouble?" Mabel perked up.

Dipper frowned and let out a whoosh of air, the first sound he had made in the last fifteen minutes. All eyes were on him as he prepared himself for what he was about to say, clenching his hands into fists and looking his sister in the eye.

"We found Wendy."


End file.
